


bird song

by jellymeat (surely_silly)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Original Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7019404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surely_silly/pseuds/jellymeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a quiet death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bird song

The storm glides away on swift summer winds, laughter curling among the gulls and twisting cloud. The air is electrifying, nearly choked with spent ozone, and drifting fingers of smoke. You dive back under the slip of a wave, and follow in its wake, lulled and lured by the warmth of heat and pain.

 

 

When you breach the water's surface again, the sun has slipped far down the sky, painting it brilliant and burnt with orange and purple, sliding closer to the black of night. The moon is a pale half sphere, peeking behind the whirling hurricane as it continues on without you. It's just below you see the flap of an arm, disjointed and flailing away the floating, life saving debris.

What once was a wooden ship borne of human ingenuity is now nothing but splintered wood, sinking hull, and suffocating sails. You swim closer, dodge fluttering rope and face down corpses.

A human bobs faintly in place, hair a dark curtain over its eyes as it gaps briefly above the water. It dips back down, the ocean a hand over its mouth before it comes back up. Again, and again. Curiously quiet and marginally still, unlike the most you have to drag down, screaming and rent with terror.

Soon you're right next to it, and slipping the hair from its eyes, cupping its face. Those misty brown eyes do not see you, and you give a small croon to its struggling heart.

You slip beneath the water, and tug gently at listless legs. A little harder, and a little more gives. Small white bubbles escape its mouth as you pull it level with you, fingers too sharp, and a little hungry. In this world of blue, you sing to the dying human, a hymn of sleep and tempting peace.

 

 

Its eyes focus on you, soften. You wonder what it sees, as the light flees to bluer waters, as you trace the back of your teeth in a hum.

Something pretty, you hope, and revel in the left behind bleeding heat. You dream of wings aloft and green, but sink, hunger a terrible itch.

 

 

 

 

You reap what you sow.

**Author's Note:**

> It's Drowning Prevention Month! Know the real signs, and not just what you see on TV and in movies!


End file.
